Page 93 of Cruel Love

“Can… can I have that one?” I ask.

“No,” Lilah answers. “Get hacking.”

Archer slides the vest on and offers me a shrug of apology.

I reach into the front pocket of my bag for my set of lockpicks. Two years ago, this security hub was protected by nothing more than a cheap padlock, but it looks like they upgraded to something a little more on the titanium side. Still not much of a problem for me but it’s nice to think I might have inspired a criminal organization to up their game.

A little twist here, a little torque there, and the lock pops open. I pull it off and slide the hub open, moving slowly to look for any tripwires, so to speak.

“Be right back,” Lilah says as she slinks off around the porch.

Wasp number three on its way, I assume, and hopefully with a vest for me.

I keep my head down, inching my fingertips along the edge of the hub. I reach the end and slide it open the rest of the way.

No tripwires. Just a slightly modified CX-22c, the same panel Fox had installed on his house back in Los Angeles.

I grin and reach into my bag for my skeleton key.

“What’s so funny?” Archer asks.

“Just feeling pretty good about myself right now,” I say.

“Don’t get too cocky, kid.”

“You gotta admit…” I slide the keycard into the slot and plug it into my laptop. “I am one-in-a-million.”

He chuckles and falls silent as Lilah appears again with a third vest in hand.

“We in yet?” she asks.

I glance at the splatter of blood along her cheek. “Not quite,” I say, reaching out to take the vest.

She pulls it back. “Hack first.”

I grunt softly and get back to work. Accessing their security camera network is, unfortunately, not as simple as plugging in my key and turning a lock. While my skeleton key narrows down the right combination of numbers to open the door, I have to cross some wires to get into their cameras.

I pull a pocket knife out of my bag and shift my attention to the wires along the side of the hub. They think they’ve doubled their security by making them all black but — like all love stories — it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Lilah taps her foot impatiently. “What are you doing?” she asks as I slowly trim the wires back.

“You ever hotwire a car?” I ask her.

“Of course.”

“Same principle,” I say. “You take this wire and that wire and you just…”

I twist them together and a camera feed pops up on my screen.

“I’m in,” I say, exhaling hard.

Lilah leans over my shoulder. “Okay, Boss. Let’s see your face…”

I can only access two at once, so I cycle through the cameras slowly as they make a connection. It’s a little nostalgic, to be honest. I walked these halls before as a stupid, idealistic kid. I had no idea what I was doing or what kind of danger I was really in. Hell, maybe I still don’t.

One agent in the kitchen. Two in the living room. An empty study.

No Boss.

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